Chosen by Shadow
by Nashra
Summary: Merrilynn lives in the now thriving Eastvale forest. One Horde attack later she is thrown into a whole new world and must learn to face it on her own.
1. Prologue

Well there you have it, the first revised chapter of Chosen by Shadow. This also means that the previous version will be taken down. Big thanks to the readers and I hope you will like this just as much.

I'm aware of the fact that this timeline does not entirely follow the one in game. So there will be a bigger timespan between WoW and BC in this story

Enjoy people

Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, even though Merrilynn was my own creation. But helas, she and the game, still belong to Blizzard.

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Azeroth in time of peace is a truly wonderful sight. It's so calm, serene and the people generally go about their own business. If you saw most cities now, you would never guess the horrors and the bloodshed that happened not long ago.

Though survivors smile now it is bittersweet, tinged with memories of how they have lost friends and family in the war. Twenty years ago, most of the Eastern Kingdoms were tainted by a plague. Towns were erased, cities ransacked and the world was on the verge of destruction. The culprit behind all this terror and pain became widely known by the name of the Burning Legion. The plague murdered families, and once it had passed, the sorcerers of the Legion came to resurrect them as slaves. Many a time, a surviving father saw his family coming after him, their flesh already rotting. Often those that witnessed their own kin serving the enemy took their own lives. So they would not have to face the living nightmare anymore. This only added more bodies to the Legion's horrific host of unliving abominations.

Facing such an army of undead, mankind was desperate. Prince Arthas of Lordareon had gone in search of something, anything to stop this force of advancing. And in doing so, he too became a slave of the Lich King, one of the most powerful officers of Sargeras, the Legion's commander. The prince betrayed all of his kin, murdered his father and the people he had once vowed to protect. It was a harsh blow and the few survivors fled to Kalimdor, carrying the plague with them.

There seemed to be no more hope for the spread out races of Azeroth. Some did not even know of the other's existence until refugees arrived at their doorstep, pleading for mercy. There was much disagreement between them, but if they were to survive, they had to unite. Temporarily forming a pact, they worked together and drove the endless armies of the Legion back toward the hellish portal they came from. When victory was at hand, the strongest spell casters destroyed the portal, hoping to prevent anything from coming out ever again.

To this day, the Dark Portal is still an area avoided by all but the most wretched and devoted followers of the Legion, devising plans to enable the return of their dark masters to Azeroth. The once beautiful marshland was now no more than a barren desert, filled with the scars of war and a painful memory that cannot be forgotten. It was named the Blasted Lands for more than one reason.

After the Great War, the pact remained, though frail between some of the races. With exception of those that followed in the footsteps of the first druid Malfurion Stormrage, the two major allegiances did not mix well. There was the Alliance, and there was the Horde, differing greatly from one another not only in appearance, but in actions as well.

When one spoke of the Horde, they either meant the cannibalistic Troll, the brutish Orc, the bulky Tauren or the deceitful Forsaken. The latter; being creations of the Burning Legion despite blessed with a will of their own by the late Sylvanas Windrunner, did not help them to a position of utter trust within their Faction. Not to mention the smell of rot and decay that followed them around was hard to ignore, even for an Orc.

According to the Alliance, the Horde didn't mind a bit of interracial mixing and had a brain the size of a peanut. True, they lived in primitive huts and did not pass judgement upon mixed couples like most of the Alliance do, but they were by no means dumb. Accustomed to a simple life they desired nothing more. Living in balance with nature was what most of them thrived.

Elves, Humans, Dwarves and Gnomes formed the Alliance. Supported by the technological brilliance of the Gnomes and the ingenuity of dwarven builders, the Alliance was proud of their big and advanced cities. The Horde often shook their head when they walked by the majestic structures. Yes, the cities were magnificent, and the devices Gnomes invented were ingenious, but the cities were an unmoving target and the gnomish inventions more often than not rather put their creator in mortal peril than serve their actual purpose.

The Alliance, again with the exception of the druids, and for once the Night Elves as well, also lived a wasteful short life with no respect at all for nature. They often ignored the call of the elements and went their own merry way, not seeing the harm they did to their surroundings.

However, by some unknown miracle, the pact held for years and neutral cities arose from the rubble. Places where those who wished could live among each other and did not have to fear for their lives - all underneath the watchful eyes and, as some people say, one-sided trade laws of the keen-witted money-loving Goblins.

Once the dust of war fully lifted, they finally saw the full scale of the destruction. The north of the Eastern Kingdoms would remain plagued forever. Undead still roamed there and the Alliance fought there daily to free the lands of the plague forever and once again live in their beloved cities, hoping against hope for the land to grow fertile again. Lordareon now home of devilish Forsaken and Stratholme still burns. The great mage tower of Dalaran had been pulverized. But from the ashes the survivors were rebuilding it, protecting their city with a shield of impenetrable magic. And Stormwind, one of the last keeps that had remained standing in the Eastern Kingdoms was rampaged. But the damage could be overcome.

Four years after the war, while the smaller cities still recovered from their wounds, it once again flourished. For its surroundings, Stormwind city shone like a beacon of light: And from there out new hope reached its surroundings. Elwynn forest became a lush green place again and once the villages were back on their feet, the whole area began to grow. Eastvale was no longer a small logging camp. More houses had been built, roads paved and the Murlocs and other possible threats had been either removed or controlled.

In this very village lived a Night Elf. This was a quite uncommon sight, for the Elves had a distaste for the in their opinion lesser races. They preferred to keep to themselves and their tranquil tree homes in Kalimdor. But there were those who were intrigued by the short lifespan of Humans, and sought out to live among them.

After all, Humans were sometimes reckless with their short life in hopes of reaching immortality in books and tales. But an Elf, who had quite a long life to lose, was more cautious, until the need was there for him to defend that which he held so dear. Ironically, Elves gained more fame that way than the humans who sought it by other means. This caused more friction between the once immortal Night Elves and the other races.

But you would never find an Elf living in the cities of Dwarves or Gnomes. Not only was most housing too small for the tall Elves, it also cut them off from the sky and nature they so love.

The name of this Elf was Treon Weaderin. The reason he had left his home in the trees went by the name of Manja. They had met many years ago in the midst of war. Both still wore their scars with pride, knowing that it could have cost them so much more than a little bit of flesh. Treon was notorious in the army, known mostly for his great tracking skills and the havoc he and his pet tiger Peach wreaked in the enemy ranks. What he didn't kill with his arrow, Peach was surely to hunt down with her claws.

They had once gotten in over their heads, and Treons long life would have ended had it not been for Manja. Her magic powers were considered lethal at least and her knowledge of potion making was still often requested. She had seen the oncoming storm of enemies towards the hunter and his beast and promptly summoned a hail storm. The two were not harmed, but the enemy was slaughtered by either cold or the ice that fell down at great speed.

However, Manja had let her own guard down and was swept from the ground by one of the enemy's spell casters. Treon, knowing well who had saved his hide made quick work of the threat before much harm came to the mage. It was an event neither would easily forget. Since both nearly paid for it with their life. Cooperation followed, and once the war was over, and emotions were once again celebrated, so was love. Manja gave birth to a little girl not long after. Naming her Merrilynn, they knew that no matter what, they would love and cherish her.

At the age of nine, Merrilynn first learned grief. Her father's trustworthy tiger perished, old age taking her life after years of battle. As the girl grew, her ears started to grow slightly bigger than a human's, the shell not round, but pointed like her father's. Though she had purple eyes, they shone a faint silver in the dark, emphasizing the fact that she was not entirely human. She was very aware that this fact made most villagers uncomfortable. 'Halfbreed' was often muttered behind her back as she walked through the city. But she cared not. She was proud of her parents and proud to be their daughter, no matter what race they were. They were after all, heroes of the third war. Who was not proud of such a fact?

Here our story begins, twenty years after Arthas' betrayal.


	2. The frail pact broken

Chapter one

It was around noon when a customer entered the little alchemist's shop that belonged to Merrilynn's mother. As always, the buyer gave the girl a foul glare and then proceeded to look around the shop impatiently, waiting for her to summon her parents.

"I'm sorry madam; my parents have gone to Redridge for an errand and won't be back for at least a few more hours. If there is anything I can do for you?" She asked as kindly as possible, hoping the woman would at least tell her what she needed.

"I'll come back tomorrow. Can't let your muddled hands touch my potion. Who knows what you might do to it." And without further notice the woman turned and left, the only goodbye being the cheerful ring of the bell on the door.

"This is hopeless" Merrilynn muttered to herself. There was no way any of the villagers would come in and actually buy anything if it was just her in the shop. Even when she helped her father making armour, people would sneer and demand that she didn't lay a hand on anything that was meant for them. She was used to this behaviour of course, but that did not make it any less aggravating.

Yes she was a half-breed; did that make her any less human? She locked the door and hung up the "closed" sign. She wouldn't sell anything today. Making sure all the candles were out she left towards the private quarters. Merri grabbed a book and settled in the nearest chair to wait for her parents.

But no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't focus on the story. She had been like this all day, fidgety, restless and unfocussed. As if something warned her of change, trouble. It gave her the chills. After another failed attempt to read the first line of the new chapter, an odd scent entered her nose. It was faint, but Elune had granted her the senses of her father. It smelled like a camp fire and yet not quite. It was fouler than that. Her brows furrowed as her hand reached for the doorknob. She might be able to get a better whiff outside. But she had not even touched the round metal when her parents entered the kitchen, pale and startled as if they had seen a ghost.

As her father looked out the kitchen window, Manja tried to put on a brave face for her daughter, though her voice had raised a few notches.

"You have to go Merri, go now, make for Stormwind," Manja rushed into her shop and came back with a few brightly coloured potions. Her father closed the kitchen curtain and left for upstairs. "Take these and…" She grabbed provisions from the various cabinets and filled up a large satchel "some provisions. Take my old horse."

Confused by her mothers antics she barely noticed her father coming back down, clothed in his old war garments. She looked from her father back to her mother a few times.

"Mom, what is going on? I don't understand! Why do I have to go to Stormwind alone? Why can't you come with me?"

"The Horde is coming. The rest of these villagers have never seen war up close Merrilynn. Your father and I must defend our village as much as we can. Or at least slow them down"

"Then why can't I stay? I can fight!"

Tears sprung in her mothers eyes as her father put a strong hand on her shoulder, his face barely hiding the pride he felt at her words.

"You are brave, but you cannot fight with us. We need you to go to Stormwind and alert the guard. They will aid us. But you must go now Merrilynn, they are moving fast. Go through the hills, they will hide you."

She looked at her father defiantly, she knew he was lying, they both knew that the guard would be alerted long before she even reached the gates. But she dared not speak up to him.

"Merrilynn, my dear sweet daughter, please understand. We are old, we have seen war, and we know the risks. But you are young, we just want you safe."

Her mother's plea did not go unheard. Sighing and with a heavy heart she embraced her parents firmly before running towards the stables. As she mounted Wingrust, her mother's horse, desperate screams reached her ears. The scent had gotten stronger. The Horde was gaining ground. She spurred the horse and soon she had left the village edge. Stormwind was a good three hours away by road. Merrilynn hoped that the path through the forest would not slow her down.

"We knew the peace wouldn't last forever. I just hoped that we would be long dead when war would erupt again." Treon noted bitterly, watching the hills with eyes like a hawk. The first riders would be appearing soon.

"At least we were prepared," Manja said, now also clad in her old battle gear. "I just hope our little girl will make it."

"We can't stop them, but we have to try, if only to give her more time. Are you with me my love?"

"Always."

And they ran into battle, their minds set only on destruction.

Trees rushed by as the horse galloped further into the lush green forest of Elwynn. The lively forest was still. It was as if even the trees knew something was wrong. Merrilynn hoped her departure had not been noticed. She couldn't fail her parents. She didn't need to urge the beast on; it knew the importance of speed as well, maybe even better than her.

But even a veteran battle-horse like Wingrust could not evade the fast young mounts of the Horde for long.

Fifteen had already fallen by Treon's bow alone, another dozen dead or dying before Manja's feet. But she was growing weaker by the spell and Treon's quiver was emptying fast. Soon his bow would be useless and his wife defenceless. No matter how many they killed, more seemed to keep coming from the path that led into the village. Manja screamed, and in the split second he was distracted, an arrow pierced his shoulder. Treon groaned at the pain. As his quiver was now empty he unsheathed his sword. The empowered runes carved into it glowing with force and blood lust. The short distance between him and the first Orc was short enough for him to cover in one sprint, but too long to be out of harm's way. Two other arrows hit him, his armour pierced as if it was a simple piece of cloth.

But he did not stop. In blind rage he collided with the first of them, firm grip on his sword. Raising it for another swipe, a dagger found his way through the cracks of his armour. Treon, now on his knees in pain, felt his life leaving him. With a last muster of strength, he killed the rogue that had stabbed him. He fell to the ground, countless Horde passing him as he was no longer a threat. He cursed; they did not even have the honour to end his misery. He closed his eyes, knowing his life partner had already left this world some time ago. A tear escaped his stoic face as he knew he would never see the freckled face of his daughter again. His wife was already awaiting him in the afterlife. With his last breath he whispered a prayer to Elune.

"Please let her be safe."


	3. Darkness Manifests

Chapter two

Merrilynn was not where she wanted to be. Her brilliant sense of direction had sent her riding north while she should have gone Northwest. This sent her too far into the forest and lost her precious time. Her only hope was that she rode the right way now. The tower of Azora was far behind her, it could not be much further now could it? Or was she riding the wrong way despite her best efforts? Then she caught sight of a lake. The structures around it those of a now abandoned Murloc encampment. She must be near Goldshire, meaning Stormwind was nearby. Hope rekindled in her heart.

Suddenly she felt several people around her, her father had taught her this technique long ago. But it must've been her mind playing tricks on her, for their appearance was only a short one.

It did not take long for her to realise her err. Her horse fell to the earth with a terrified whinny. Merrilynn was flung of the saddle into the nearby foliage. She held her head, hoping it would make the world stop spinning. She hissed as her left temple exploded in pain from the touch. She'd hit a rock hidden in the green leaves, blood trickling from the fresh wound.

"Come on Wing, time to get up, we're not there yet." She whispered groggily as she turned towards the animal. But the horse would never move again, red streaking the normally pure white fur. Her eyes widened considerably when they focussed on the black arrow protruding from Wingrust's flank. She was not dealing with allies in the forest.

Fire emanated from her hands. Sweat trickled down her forehead in an attempt to guide the fire. Somehow managing she stood, ready to fire at anything that moved. The second arrow came out of nowhere. Before she realised it was coming, it had already hit her in the shoulder. The fire faded into nothing. And pain, unlike any she had ever felt, entered her system, accompanied by fear. Everything her father ever taught her of combat and survival disappeared. She ran towards the water, terror overriding any thoughts of logic.

A rope found its way around her ankles, and she found herself meeting the ground for a second time. Spots danced before her eyes while she clawed around wildly. Laughter surrounded her. She was in more trouble than she thought. This was not the sound of the bandits in the hills. It was a deep, almost animalistic laughter. The ground disappeared from underneath her when she was lifted by the collar of her robe. The spots slowly disappeared, revealing the person on the other side of the arm. She was about ready to scream.

In the depths of Elwynn forest, she was face to face with a ginger haired Troll, his viridian skin glinting with sweat. His face was decorated with dark war paint, a smirk upon his lips as she tried to get out of his grip. Amber eyes looked her up and down before she was pushed against the nearest tree. While the troll still held her, a second pair of hands tied hers above her head and against the oak. Her future did not seem rosy. Children in the Alliance were brought up with stories of how people disappeared in the woods surrounding a Horde village. And how they often found back not more than a few bones, maybe a bit of flesh if the Trolls had gotten a bigger prey than their stomachs could handle. She did not want to end up like that, and a voice inside her whispered, barely audible, that she wouldn't if she just did as it said.

She tugged hard at her bonds, praying that the Troll had no knowledge of knots. But luck wasn't on her side. The only thing she managed was to tear her frail flesh open at her wrists and draw blood. The warm liquid slowly made its way down her arms. A wild gleam entered his eyes at the smell of blood, and he watched her struggle with a smirk on his lips. He took her legs in his hands and laid them around his hips. Merri, losing her foothold, felt the rope scrape more skin as gravity pulled her down. She kicked at him, but her attempts were easily redirected out of harms way. She sneered when he roughly grabbed her chin. His tusks, almost as long as his ears barely missed her as he moved their faces closer together. She tried to keep her head in place, but the Troll once again proved too strong.

Laughter behind them made her aware that the Troll was not alone. Amused by their companion's antics they were doubled over. Though the blue haired tried to keep himself somewhat calm, only having his shoulders shaking in effort, the other, silver haired troll had actually fallen to his knees. Holding his stomach, his silver mohawks swayed as he shook with laughter. The show continued while they kept laughing. Pulling on her chin, his tongue invaded her mouth. Squeezing her eyes shut she smelled the blood, ash and sweat on his skin. She knew she would be wishing for death long before it was over.

But the voice was back inside her head, stronger this time. Telling her she shouldn't give up, that she should fight. Calmed somewhat, the blue skinned troll noticed a change of air as he watched the two, the girl in particular. She was no longer afraid, he noted. Her skin greyed visibly and her veins pulsed through the deathly pale skin. His eyes narrowed, he had seen this before and it did not bode well. Perhaps they had picked the wrong prey

"Ko'mrah…" He started, but the damage had already been done. His red-headed friend pulled back with a pained cry and held a hand to his mouth protectively. Looking at the girl, they saw her spit out a piece of flesh defiantly. Her eyes were a dangerous black. Ko'mrah, obviously angered by the loss of tongue drew his sword in rage. The girl did not seem fazed, the veins still pulsing, black eyes challenging the Troll to strike. The other put a hand on Ko'mrahs and shook his head. He was far from amused.

"Da human need to pay Ayiz." He spoke in his own tongue, a slight lisp betraying his newfound handicap.

"I know, killing her only give her wad she want. Let her live. Let her suffer."

They threw her a sideway glance as Ayiz flashed him a grin. He need not tell his comrade anymore. Though Merri could not understand their words, she knew it would be nothing good. Whatever they had planned, it wasn't over yet. The troll pair moved to the side and Merrilynn was face to face with something that seemed to come straight from a nightmare.

She felt her blood run cold. She would have not believed what she saw, had it not been standing a few feet away from her. There, an Undead being stood, whatever flesh it had hanging from its bones. The scent of rot and decay surrounding it seemed to make nature around the Forsaken wither in mere seconds. It was not so strange, she realised when the stench entered her nose. The Undead's mouth turned upward in what would normally be a grin. But with the absence of flesh, it could be named no more than a grimace.

Its lipless mouth started muttering strange words in an unholy tongue and Merrilynn felt her body go limp. The voice that had been so strong in her head was now replaced with one much darker.

-_Give in little girl, there is no escape, your body belongs to me now-_

The voice commanded her to raise her head and she obeyed. She did not understand how this was possible. What kind of dark magic was this?

A hand stroked her cheek, slowly sliding down to her neck and softly cupping a breast. She was forced to look into the amber eyes of the silver haired troll. He could see the black once again making way for dazzling purple and he smiled before he took her lips in a savage kiss. Her mind tried to order her mouth to bite down again, but she was rewarded with a shot of pain in her head.

-_Foolish girl, can't you see that your attempts are futile? You are too weak to fight me, why not just obey?-_

Briefly releasing his hold on her chest, Ayiz retrieved the dagger from his belt. His comrades watched his moves intently. She felt the cold steel press against her neck and she prayed that it would be over soon. But the blade did not take her life; instead the troll directed it skilfully through her dress, all the way down to her now paralysed legs. The severed halves of the robe fell open, exposing her pale complexion to the four members of the Horde.

Ayiz reached out a calloused hand towards her skin. It was soft, almost like silk. She could feel the touch, yet she could not scream for help, she couldn't even cry.

-_Who would hear you? You are alone. Give up and give in. stop resisting..-_

Her will waned. But to accept her fate that she would probably die in her beloved Elwynn like this, was something she would not give in to so easily. She fought for control, but the Forsaken was strong. Rendered motionless she was forced to watch the trolls face get closer to her body, velvet tongue darting out to lick her soft skin. His hands travelled all over her body while he sucked on one of her breasts. His tusks, though filed down to a small size, scraped her skin with every movement, slowly wounding the fragile tissue. His hand stopped at the junction of her legs. Pushing aside the last piece of cloth between his hand and her dignity, he inserted one oversized finger inside of her. As the finger moved slowly, she felt nothing but pain. She felt pain, disgrace and sadness churning in her mind, and all she could hear was the laughter of the Forsaken in her mind. The troll was rather enjoying himself. The feel of her tight walls against his finger, and her female scent was making him feel restless .Nothing felt better than an untouched human.

But he had forgotten that he was not the only one around. The third troll was quick to remind him as he pushed Ayiz out of the way. Tired of waiting he had his pants down to his ankles he positioned himself. Ayiz pulled out his dagger again, ready for vengeance on his kin. But before Ayiz could attack, his kin fell dead to the ground. In danger, the other two trolls vanished in thin air, leaving the Forsaken to fend for himself. What became of him, she would not know. Briefly, before she fainted, she could feel tears falling from her cheeks. It was over and she embraced the darkness with open arms. For the voice was gone, and she would be at peace, at least for now.


	4. Onward to Devestation

Chapter three

All was silent atop the walls of Stormwind. The lone pair of guards keeping watch could not have asked for a more peaceful and boring day. The oldest, Helmut, kept a firm grip on his spear in a futile attempt to stay awake. This had been his third week of duty in a row and though the view from the wall over Elwynn was breathtaking, it got quite dull after the first week. His much younger colleague was on a chair in the small room in the tower, feet planted atop the table, fast asleep.

Helmut's eyelids felt heavy and he was nodding off slightly when smoke entered his line of vision. Confused he rubbed them, thinking his mind had gotten the better of him. But when the smoke remained; he was more awake that he had ever been in 20 years. Tripping over his feet, he rushed towards the small office where he nearly knocked the younger guard from his chair. Helmut climbed the rickety stairs to the top of the chamber and took hold of the rope. Pulling it, the bell sounded far into the distance. The inhabitants of Stormwind did not seem fazed. If anything they rolled their eyes, thinking that this was just another prank played by children. The bell had rung one too many times for attacks that weren't even there.

Karl, Helmut's partner in guard duty glared at the man for waking him. A good deal of discussion and a look to the east later, the young man was just as pale as the walls of the cathedral in the city. Helmut shouted at him from the room above.

"Are you still here? The commander is probably already on his way, get going!"

The commander in question was indeed on his way. Commander Benjamin Gale of the Fifth Regiment of the Stormwind Regal Guard to be precise. Head of Stormwind Security. Criminals cowered at the mere sound of his heavy footsteps through the well paved streets of the city. His once thick mass of brown hair now swayed behind him in a thin ponytail, grey locks showing his age, his face set in an eternal glare. People suspect even Lord Bolvar Fordragon cower at that glare sometimes. Even though he was a seasoned paladin, he hated the sound of that bell, no matter how charming the sound itself was. It always meant no good. Lately there had been more pranks by bored mages than actual danger. His and many other regiments had gone out only to find a mirage caused by arcane magic. People these days didn't know the true meaning of danger any more. He, having lived through two wars, one of which as an actual soldier, the other as a child, knew the importance of that bell too well.

Not that he ever hoped for the alarm to be real. Heavens no, he was relieved whenever it turned out to be a false alarm, albeit agitated. But he preferred the bell not to ring at all. It would save him a lot of paperwork at the end of the day. But he couldn't risk not heeding the call. There was always danger, and someday it just might reach his beloved city. If so, he had to be prepared. He was pleased to see that his officers and head of the scout squadron were already there. He didn't doubt that the scouts themselves were already mobilized at the gates and waiting further orders. The commander was slightly jealous of the loyalty his scout leader got from his men. The rest of his regiment was probably still sleeping off their hangover or pretending they didn't hear the bell.

Straightening his leather gloves he nodded to the young soldier practically shaking in his boots. This was mostly due to the captain and not the discovery.

"Where is it this time?" he asked, hardly paying attention to the state the guard was in.

"Eee-ee-Eastvale sir."

"Another attack by an enormous water elemental I suppose. I thought we had that mage in our cells already."

"No sir, it's…..burning."

The grip on the gloves tightened as Benjamin's jaws locked into place.

"Are you certain about this?"

"Yes sir, the smoke will soon reach us if the wind stays this way."

The commander's mood darkened as strategies formed in his head, accompanied by thoughts of doom. Why did the pact have to break now, while he was still among the living? Weren't two wars enough? What more did the Light want from him?

"William" he turned to the man closest to him. "Gather our men, tell them to wait mounted at the gates, I will leave with whoever gets there fast enough, you follow with the rest. Let them know this is NOT a joke. Anyone not heeding the call will be punished."

"Gerhard" this was directed to his scout leader. "I want you and your men to leave now and scout the forest. If there is so much as a rock misplaced, I want to know right away, understood?" Both men nodded and went in their respective directions.

"The rest of you get ready for battle. I don't know what we'll find there, but I want you to be alert."

Without even another glance to the shaking guard he left towards the stables. There his apprentice and promising soldier Creton Scoe was awaiting him. Currently in a struggle with the leather buckles of his chest piece, he did not notice his commander. Though the young paladin in training had barely left his teens, the boy had already shown much promise in walking the path of the Light. Even more so than his mentor, Creton was especially able in the execution of healing spells. But like many his age, he was not free of burden. Children of war are how they called his generation. Too young to be part of the fight, but not young enough to forget what happened. He had lost his parents in a Horde attack, and not long ago, his love had been taken away from him as well. The lines that usually come with age were already set deeply in his face.

With a look of glee Creton won against the straps of his armour and came face to face with his mentor and commander. He took a startled step back before saluting his superior.

"At ease soldier." Benjamin spoke lightly stressed before tossing the young man a saddle and grabbing one himself.

"We are riding out again? Where to? Another hoax?"

"Eastvale." Was all he said and they prepared their horses in silence. Roused by William, most of Benjamin's men were waiting by the gates. The commander sighed deeply. Most of these men hadn't seen worse than a brute gnoll called Hogger that they could not seem to kill. How on earth would they survive against an army of bloodthirsty Horde?

Benjamin shook his head, willing those dark thoughts away. He shouldn't think like that. Signalling the departure they made their way towards the old logging camp as fast as their horses could bring them. A scout was awaiting them just past Goldshire. Benjamin ordered all but two of his men and Creton to move on and the scout to report. When the man motioned him to follow, his bushy brows furrowed. Had they found a Horde camp? This close to the city already?

Soon they found the corpse of a white horse, the arrow still protruding from its bloodied flank. But the scout moved onward, softly whispering.

"We assumed it had been a messenger from Eastvale, but then we came upon this. The officer figured it would we best if one of us awaited you."

They entered a small clearing and Benjamin nearly dropped his sword in shock at the sight of the bound and bleeding girl. Not a small feat for someone who has seen so much. Creton was on the verge of heaving.

"Is she still alive?"

"unlikely sir, she has lost so much blood."

"You mean you didn't even check?" Benjamin asked harshly while approaching the girl. Cursing inwardly for the incompetence of his scouts, he took of a glove and put it against her cheek. Still warm, maybe... Concentrating on her heartbeat, he could not feel anything. It seemed they were too late. She might have stood a chance if they had checked sooner. He was sure to have a word with his captain about this. Then very faint, he felt a thump. She was alive, though barely.

"She can't be much younger than you." Benjamin whispered slowly to Creton, who had managed to keep his food inside his stomach, though he still looked a little green.

"What would you have us do sir?" He asked softly, looking uneasily from the naked girl to the troll lying dead at her feet. He did not even want to think about what happened.

"I trust it you have potions with you? Cut her loose, and give her the strongest in your possession."

"But sir?" The young paladin started, when he saw her fall limply into the commander's arms. He could hear the doubt in his apprentice's voice.

"She's still alive. The longer you wait the more chance that that won't stay that way for long. A potion, now, Creton."

Without another word he retrieved a small red glowing vial from the saddlebag while Benjamin shouted orders to the other men. From experience he knew the potion tasted vile, but the herbs were potent and fast. Uncorking the vial with his teeth, Benjamin put the vial to the young girl's lips. After making sure she got at least part of the substance down, he bandaged the girls wrists with shreds of his cloak and then covered her with the rest of it. He handed the unconscious girl to Creton.

"Goldshire isn't far. Take her to the inn and await further orders."

Half disappointed Creton accepted the task. He had hoped for a better task than watching over her. But he knew the importance of her survival. Benjamin and the others rode on without much hope. When they arrived in Eastvale, hope fled their hearts. The flourishing city had been reduced to ash and rubble. The only buildings still standing were raided from possessions. Bodies of men women and children strewn everywhere. All they could do was give the civilians their last rites and give them a proper burial. Gerhard approached him, face showing very little hope.

"They barely stood a chance. The guards were overwhelmed, and the few that could fight didn't last long. Not even the local heroes stood a chance."

"heroes?"

"Manja and Treon Weaderin. I fought alongside them in the third war. They were about as powerful as it gets in the day. I never spoke to them after that, didn't even knew they lived here. If I had, I would've visited I'm sure." he muttered with a slight note of regret. "But they went down fighting; don't think they would've wanted it any other way."

"Where are they?"

The scout leader showed him to the pair. Many horde were at their feet, but it had been to no avail.

"Make sure they are honoured accordingly."

A small alchemist shop caught the commanders eye. He was not surprised to find it completely raided. An array of colours adorned the walls and floor as many potions had been dropped in the attempt to take everything. The containers in shards over various surfaces. Not even the private quarters had been spared as Benjamin noticed the broken door. He was about to enter the secluded living space when his boot came in contact with something other than the shards of glass that frequented the floor. Lifting his foot he found himself staring at a family portrait of the now deceased owners of the little shop.

He handed the frame to Gerhard.

"I never realised they had a daughter."

Taking the picture out of the frame Benjamin then tucked it between his armour.

"She's the girl you left for dead near Goldshire."

Gerhard looked guilty.

"She had lost so much blood. I didn't think she had survived."

"You ALWAYS check Gerhard, if only to make sure she isn't breathing any more. But we will discuss this later. Please tell me you got the one responsible or was there only one?."

"There were four sir. One is dead and the Forsaken was easily caught. But the others. It's like they have vanished in thin air. No footprints or anything. The only confirmation we have of them even being there was the scout that killed one of them. I sent scouts to Redridge, maybe that will give us some answers about the path they took. One way or another. They will be back in Stormwind by tomorrow."

"Good, we will inform the king tomorrow then."

The Regiment spent the rest of the day creating the graveyard that would be the final resting ground for the people of Eastvale. A monument of names the only remembrance of the villagers and the dark day. The hordes that had fallen were stacked somewhere far from Eastvale and then burnt to ashes. It was well past sunset when the regiment headed back to Stormwind. Benjamin halted in Goldshire to see how the girl was doing. The commander could see Creton's hunched shoulders glinting near the fire. Benjamin was glad the young paladin had not been there to see the destruction of Eastvale. He didn't seem to notice his mentor until said person held a pint in front of him.

Creton politely declined with a hollow voice. Benjamin took a seat besides him and pushed the drink in his hands, not missing the empty gaze that was directed to the fireplace. He knew that look. It had been on the face of many soldiers before, and Creton would certainly not be the last.

"Today is a good day to start drinking my boy. Drink, forget, let it ease the pain."

Reluctantly the young man took a swig of the beverage. He cringed as the bitter liquid ran down his throat. He received a chuckle and a pat on the back from his commander.

"Don't worry, you get used to the taste after a while. And it helps you sleep a lot better at night. How is the girl?"

"Sleeping for now. I fear she will not remember much though."

"Perhaps it is for the best." The commander admitted with a heavy heart, the image of the girl flashing before his eyes. "Her attempt to warn us was in vain. Eastvale was ransacked."

"No survivors?"

The look on the commanders face said more than enough.

"What happens to her now?"

"She is under your care until the council that will surely come." Benjamin took out the photo he had found in the alchemist shop and gave it to Creton. "You are her guardian now."

Creton nearly spit out his beverage when he took a look at the family portrait.

"But she's a half-breed! You can't ask me to watch over the likes of her."

Benjamin's gaze darkened as he heard the young man speak.

"This isn't a request soldier. She is alone now, just like you were so many years ago. Do not forget the kindness that was bestowed upon you. She is in need of a friend right now, not another enemy." The tone in his voice left no room for rebuttal and he was only mildly pleased with the glimmer of fear he saw in the soldiers eyes. He was just too tired right now. The young healer stood at attention, and though his voice suggested otherwise, he swore to keep the girl safe until the council at least. Benjamin knew Creton hated half-breeds, but that was the exact reason the commander chose him. At least he would keep his hands off the girl.

"We debrief tomorrow morning. You will meet me tomorrow at noon with the girl. Remember your oath to the Light soldier. I will see you tomorrow, now get some rest."

With that said the commander left the inn and ordered his men onward, leaving Creton alone with the one thing in life he hated more than Horde.

Sighing he accepted his fate. His commander was right, she wasn't just a half-breed right now. She was the sole survivor of a now extinct village. His judgement was the last thing she needed.

* * *

A/n: I'm sorry for the very long silence. Even now i cannot promise you fast updates :-( Bear with me will you? ^^

Not Beta'd, so i apologize for any dumb spelling mistakes or grammatical errors that there might be.  
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know ;-)


	5. Crude awakening

Chapter four

Creton sat by her during the night. Tending to her wounds and replacing the cold cloth on her forehead to temper the fever. No matter how much he wished to do otherwise, he kept to the oath he had sworn to the Light. 'Never turn your back to those in need. Protect the alliance at all cost and against all odds. Be kind to those less fortunate'.

There would never be another time that he hated his oath as much as he did now. But denying it would make him a very selfish man. The words of his mentor rang freshly in his mind.

"She is alone now, just like you were so many years ago. Do not forget the kindness that was bestowed upon you."

He accidentally ripped the bandage he was about to apply to her wrist in two. The commander would make sure he never forgot the last part. He had been but a boy when his village got attacked. His mother hid him in the basement and laid as many protective spells upon him as she could muster and left for battle. All Creton could remember after that was the loud noise and how all of a sudden all became eerily quiet.

Had Benjamin not sensed him, if the commander had forsaken his oath and just left him there, Creton would have perished in that basement, still waiting for his mother to return, too scared to come out. But Benjamin came for him, spending days in that godforsaken village to earn the young boy's trust and convince him to travel to Stormwind with the army.

The least Creton could do now to repay the commander, was to do as he was told. Near morning Creton was so exhausted that he decided it would be a good idea if he rested his head for just a moment. Only a light nap before he travelled to the city with the girl. But the light nap soon became a solid sleep.

Benjamin paced back and forth between the city gates. It was well past noon, and his apprentice had yet to arrive. The boy was never late. Needless to say, the commander was worried. This morning's debrief clouded his mind. Scouts reported Eastvale had not been the only target. Following their tracks, they came upon a destructive trail leading from the now opened gates to the Burning Steppes to the border of Duskwood. There all trace vanished in the thick mist surrounding the haunted land. The horde must've traversed the solemn lands in the fastest route to Stranglethorn Vale. A vast jungle, which no member of the alliance ever passed through alive on foot. Even the expedition team of the brave Dwarf Hemet Nesingwary was lost. The only thing they ever found of him was a book with many missing pages called the Green Hills of Stranglethorn.

Benjamin almost pleaded the Prince to take immediate action. If they flew directly to Booty Bay, they might still have been able to apprehend the criminals before they boarded the ship back to their lands. The Horde needed to pay for the lives they took.

His advice landed upon deaf ears. The young prince stated enough blood had been spilt already. The Highlord suggested diplomacy, to talk to their Warchief. It irked Benjamin to no end. As if words could ever make a difference. They needed to take action! If their attackers were not dealt with, Stormwind would be the next target. They could be on their way right now and he was standing here. Riled up from his own thoughts he saddled his horse and made for Goldshire.

The girl was trapped in nightmares she didn't even understand. Shards of memories passed through her subconscious, but nothing clicked in those dark dreams. When she awoke bathing in sweat all images vanished and she found it hard to remember what made her feel so scared. Then pain entered her system. Everything hurt, as if she had fallen from a cliff. As she took in her unfamiliar surroundings and the young man dozing on a bedside chair, confusion hit her hard. Where was she? What happened? And who in Elune's name was the man?

A crashing sound made Merrilynn jump up with fright and the stranger fall off his chair. When he saw who had just busted in the room so violently, he scurried to a saluting position. So it was a soldier then. And the older man, whoever it was, was his superior.

"At ease, soldier."

Benjamin was in a mix of anger and relief. He chose the latter, taking in the sight of the very confused and apprehensive girl. He approached her calmly, sitting on the chair Creton recently vacated.

"My name is Benjamin Gale, What is yours?" He made sure to keep his tone soft and even. As if he was talking to a child.

"Merrilynn, sir."

"All right, Merrilynn, do you know where you are right now?"

She shook her head. That was understandable; she had been out cold the whole time.

"This is the Goldshire inn. You were found unconscious not too far from here. Can you tell us what happened? A frown appeared on her already puzzled expression. Goldshire? That was miles from home. As hard as she tried, she could only remember very small shards, and she wasn't even sure if they were real.

"I fell... I think."

"Can you remember anything else?"

"I needed to hurry somewhere. It was important. People were screaming. Someone was crying." She couldn't grasp the information her mind was feeding her. She looked at the two men worried. But their looks only spoke of sorrow.

Creton tried desperately to swallow the lump in his throat, willing away his own memories. He had to remind himself that he was a soldier now. They needed be strong, brave and stoic. Not to mention he did not want to admit to himself he could actually relate to a half-breed. They had wronged him too much to earn his sympathy. That was it, he thought to himself, just remember what they had done, and then the lump will go away. But she seems so fragile right now, was all that entered his mind when he looked at the girl. No, he couldn't think that way, all half-breeds were the same.  
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. If he did not get out of the room fast, he was sure his mind would explode from the inner dialogue.

Meanwhile, the commander was facing his own demons. Having lost count on how many times he had been through this. And there was never any easy way. He figured it best to start out gently.

"That young man over there is my apprentice, Creton. We were assigned to take you to Stormwind, where you can rest while your wounds heal."

"Why can't I just go home? My mother makes potions, I'm sure she can heal this in no time." Benjamin breathed a small sigh of relief. She had no questions regarding her injuries. Not yet anyway. He cleared his throat uneasily.

"I'm afraid you can't Merrilynn. Not just yet. Eastvale… Your city… It was… attacked."

The woman's eyes went wide with worry. More memories came and started clicking in place. The screams, the crying, it all started to make sense. It also painted an absolutely horrifying picture in her mind.

"My parents! Where are they? Are they alright? What's happened to them? Tell me they're alright, please!"

Tears stood ready at the corners of her eyes. Benjamin couldn't bring up the courage to tell her the sad news.

"We don't know yet. We haven't heard from the village yet. I'm sure that more news will await us in the city. That is, if you feel ready to travel."

She nodded, ignoring any pain or willing it away. The sooner they were in Stormwind, the better. She prayed to Elune, hoping her parents were ok. Within minutes she was dressed, oblivious to the state of herself and the dress. Only one thing was important right now. The rest would follow later. The trip to Stormwind had never seemed longer.

An audience with the Prince of Stormwind was granted to her within the hour of her arrival. She stood trembling before him, barely holding back despair as she awaited his words. With a look of utmost compassion he relayed the tragic news. She fell to her knees, sobbing and holding her head in denial. She screamed at them, saying how cruel liars they were. Before long she turned into a quivering mass of flesh on the floor. Prince Anduin Wrynn could do nothing but feel compassion. Soon he would hear similar bad news.

His father had been missing for over two decades now, and unlike what the prince believed in his childhood, the man was only mortal. But, until any evidence of his father's demise had been found, he would remain only prince. If he rose to the throne, it meant he had given up hope. And that was the one thing that kept him strong. Too many rumors were alive in the city these days, ranging from the king's capture, to his untimely or unlucky demise.

Suddenly, the girl lay perfectly still before her entire body cramped up. Automatically Creton rushed to her side. She seemed to be in excruciating pain. Helpless he looked at his commander, not knowing what to do. He was ordered to carry the young woman outside and to his home. He would stop by later with all the details. As the loyal soldier he was, Creton obeyed without question, even though he didn't fully understand.

But Benjamin did. It was because of the Highlord. The man possessed so much raw power that he could hardly contain it. Removing the girl from his vicinity was the only solution, until she became stronger at least. For now she was just too weak to be around him.

A few hours later, Benjamin entered his apprentice's house. The three of them sat in his living area for a while, each holding a steaming cup of tea, surrounded by an eerie silence. Merrilynn could not have cared less for the beverage. She watched the steam rise from the cup with hollow eyes. She had just lost everything. She spoke up with a hoarse voice.

"What happens to me now? Now that I can't go home."

She didn't even bother to look up. Benjamin searched carefully for words.

"You are placed under Creton's care for the time being. At least until the paperwork is done. After that, we might be able to get you into an apprenticeship. Your mother was an alchemist you said?"

Somewhere in that sentence he said the wrong thing. Her head bowed even lower and it looked as if the cup of tea she held in her hand could fall to the floor any minute.

"My mom made the potions; customers didn't even want my 'muddled' hand touching the corked vials, let alone the ingredients." She scoffed; it all seemed so unimportant right now.

Those words struck home in Creton's mind. He did his best to ignore the gnawing feeling of guilt inside his stomach. He was one of them.

"It can't be helped;" he started softly "some people just can't cope with things that are different."

"It's not like I asked to be born a half-breed. People always forget that. They seem to think we like to be treated this way so much that we chose to have differently raced parents…"

Another seed of self-doubt was placed inside Creton's mind. Had he been blinded by hate so much? There was much to think about. And even more to discuss with his superior.

* * *

Merged a few of the chapters. Got rid of the nightmare scenes (redundant really)

Hope you like the revise.

Leave a scribble,

Nashra


	6. Facing Reality

Chapter five

By the time they were done talking, the streetlights were already lit. But as Benjamin stood out on the street he could see the young paladin was still bothered by something.

"What is it boy?"

"Why was she put in my care? Sir? Aren't there more qualified guardians in the city?"

Benjamin gale smiled as he put an almost fatherly hand on his shoulder.

"Because my boy, it will be a good experience for you. Learn that there is more to life than hate and vengeance; that the past needs to be just that. I believe she will be just the person to teach you such a valuable lesson. She might have already."

A few moments of silence later the commander straightened his armor, and left some last words of advice.

"Eat something and get some rest. There is a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Creton was alone now, gazing at the fire that was blazing softly, his mind elsewhere. Her words echoed through his mind as if she still sat beside him, constantly whispering them in his ear. For so long he had felt nothing but hatred toward half-breed, but with just one line she undid all of his reasons.

He retrieved a portrait from the mantelpiece. The only one he had kept of his beloved Katherine. Taken from him by the hands of a half-breed. He swore then that he would never forgive what they had done to him.

Whilst a finger was tracing the outlines of his beloved's gentle face, he gazed in the direction where Merrilynn now slept. Perhaps he had chosen the wrong target of his hatred. All these years, he had treated half-breeds badly because of the action of just one man. _The worst part of it all, _he thought to himself bitterly, _was that you always preached compassion for all, no matter race or alignment. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, my dear._

Replacing the portrait on the mantle, he decided tomorrow would be a fresh start, and headed for bed.

Sleep did not go well for Merrilynn. It came to her in the end, but only because she was exhausted. Darkness washed over her, drowning her in nightmares. When Creton came to awake her just before dawn, she almost attacked him, thinking he was one of the monsters from her nightmares.

She looked around wildly in the poorly lit room. It took a lot of soothing and reassuring words to convince her that she was safe and awake. But once that was over and done with, a worse realization struck her. This wasn't the nightmare. Yesterday hadn't been a dream.

"What?" She asked, wanting nothing more than to just turn around and pretend he didn't exist.

"I am to bring you to the Bank at dawn," he explained matter-of-factly, and added on a softer tone, "There is a hot bath waiting for you if you wish. I thought it might help."

"How can hot water bring my parents back?" She snapped as she attempted to glare at him, amethyst eyes brimming with tears. She closed them and looked away. She didn't want to cry, not when he was around. She shook off the hand before it touched her shoulder and tried to ignore the compassionate voice that spoke to her.

"It can't, it will take time for the ache in your heart to ease. I can't even promise you that it will ever pass." He paused, unsure of how to continue "But I've always found that a bath has soothing qualities that you can't find anywhere else."

"No thank you." Despite the definite sorrow in her voice, the tone still made his blood run cold. He reminded himself of yesterday's promise; it would not do him well to start yelling at her now. After several deep breaths from his side, he was able to answer her in a somewhat calm demeanor.

"Very well. Breakfast will be waiting for you in ten minutes. We leave in half an hour."

* * *

There we go, glad that's over and done with.

More coming

Leave a scribble,

Nashra :-x


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